


Moment Of Truth

by DixieDale



Category: Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 12:35:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14618664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: Craig Garrison had known forming a team from this odd assortment of cons wouldn't be an easy task.  But he felt he was up to the task.  He'd learned a lot at West Point, knew what a team should look like.  Now all he had to do was make it happen.  Or, more to the point, THEY had to make it happen.      Of course, the characters do not belong to me, I make no money from relating their stories, I am merely grateful for the privilege.





	Moment Of Truth

********

Lieutenant Craig Garrison had picked these four men very carefully from the many available. Well, not Wheeler, of course; he'd been foisted on him in order to get one of the others he wanted. His choices had been tut tut'ed over by various people, including the Administrators of the various prisons. He'd been told their overriding faults and larcenous predilictions; the Wardens hadn't seemed to understand it was those very predilictions, skills, he had seen as a strong point, that he was forming a crack guerilla team, not a Sunday School choir.

He was told Casino, the safecracker, lockpick, was a hood, came from a family of hoods, a gangster through and through. Goniff, "he'll be of no use to you, hardly makes it halfway through calisthenics in the yard, no wind, no strength, you know. Can't keep his fingers off anything shiny either, or for that matter, anything else that catches his eye. He's sneaky, will pick your pocket first time he has an opportunity, and be long gone."

Chief was touted as "a cold blooded murderer; well, an Indian, don't you know. He'll slit your throat and be off before anyone knows what's happening; can hot wire just about any vehicle, so don't expect to keep him confined." There was something about the young man, though, something that told Garrison he was a keeper.

Actor, "a con man, can convince anyone of just about anything, impersonate just about anybody; he'll suborn your men, con his way out of where ever you have him. He's at home over there; you'll never find him." Well, to Garrison, those all sounded most promising, and he got a tingle in the back of his neck when he talked to each of them, that little sign that, yes, this was what he was looking for; they wouldn't be easy men to lead, to form into a team, but they had skills and potential. It was an entirely different tingle than the one Wheeler gave him, the one that warned him never to turn his back on this man, that he was a bully and highly untrustworthy.

And somehow, for all the big talk, Garrison had the feeling he was a coward, possibly more of one than the little Englishman who had been cheerfully frank about that, "natural-born coward, I am, but if it's someone you want to do second-story work, fancy finger stuff, I'm the best you'll find," with a cheeky grin and air of smug confidence, though there was a sense of deep unease at the back of all that bravado. Garrison rather thought the small man was walking knee-deep in trouble here in Sing Sing; he was a little too anxious to get out, not making any demands, not asking any questions, just saying a very fast "yes', and Garrison decided he had to take him, even if he hadn't been what he was truly looking for, thinking someone not quite so, well, to put it bluntly, small, would hold up better under the rigors anticipated. After all, Garrison was the one who put the kibosh on Goniff's possibility of parole, and the bead of sweat on the man's forehead and the furtive way he looked around indicated staying here was just not a good idea. The predatory smile on the burly guard who'd escorted the Cockney to the meeting room hadn't set well with either of them, Goniff actually moving to Garrison's far side to avoid the man on the way out.

Garrison had thought to select his men, leave them in place til he knew which four he wanted; however, he'd ended up taking Chief and Goniff with him, getting the feeling he'd not find them in the same condition if he waited til later. He was probably right.

**

Garrison was trying not to get discouraged; he had know it would take time. Time for the men to get used to each other, to bond, to form a team, to be willing to put themselves on the line for each other. Just, they didn't HAVE time! The missions were being assigned; they had a job to do, and there just wasn't time for them to get into a comfortable groove, to form the trust they'd need to survive this, to get done what had to get done. They'd survived the first mission, well, at least the four waiting for him now had survived. Wheeler hadn't, but it appeared that wasn't so much to be mourned as it might have been as the man had been trying to kill Chief and steal a shitload of counterfeit money at the time. They'd survived, got the job done.>p> <>p>He still wasn't sure that little game with the money in that burned out building wasn't just that, a game, to see how he'd react. Somehow he just knew they were too smart to have been caught out that easily, though he could be wrong. There had been a few more jobs since then, some successful, some not, but everyone had gotten back alive and relatively in one piece. 

He was starting to get to know them better too, more than just what their files, their historys had told him. He knew more how far he could push, what buttons to push (and equally important, which ones to avoid pushing), what tempted each man, what were their weak spots, who he could depend on for what. He still thought he'd made good choices, the strengths outweighing the rest, or at least enough so that he could overlook their individual shortcomings. He took some comfort in that, but he wasn't seeing what he'd hoped to see, the threads of trust, inter-reliance they needed to survive longterm. He sighed as he walked into the Common Room, to be met with the too familiar sight and sound of discordance and bickering, not exactly what a real TEAM would look and sound like, certainly. Actor, aloof in his chair, engrossed in a book, ignoring everyone. Chief in the window casing, staring out into the night. Casino and Goniff arguing with each other, snarling at each other.

"Alright, listen up. We've got a mission." And so it starts again.

***  
Garrison swore to himself! Everything had been going great, til they ran into that patrol, got caught in a really bad position. He was pinned down in a deep ditch, with a wounded Chief beside him. Actor and Casino, well, they weren't in any better positions, both to his left; at least it didn't look like they'd been shot, but neither of them could get a bead on the patrol facing them, on higher ground with total cover.

The only one who was in the right place to help, well, he was up on the railway trestle behind the patrol, for no good reason that Garrison knew of, only that it was hard to keep the second-story man on solid ground when there was something worth climbing in the vicinity, almost as hard as keeping his sticky fingers off any little shiny thing that caught his eye, all of which was annoying as hell sometimes, like trying to keep track of a mischievous hyperactive six-year old; it was only about 10 feet off the ground, that trestle, well within shooting distance, but three of the patrol had seen him, had a bead on his position and had shown it by a few way too accurate shots that dinged off the metal beams all around him, and never took their eyes or their guns off that position either. If he moved from where he was crouching behind that metal beam, they'd get him for sure.

And, of course, it had to be Goniff! The amiable little pickpocket had a lousy aim, usually closed his eyes before he pulled the trigger AND was a self-admitted coward. For him to be able to do them any good, he'd have to stand, putting himself in their direct line of fire, where they just couldn't miss him, and use that submachine gun to full capacity, keeping his eyes OPEN! None of that was going to happen and Garrison knew it.

He swore again, {"why couldn't it have been one of the others? Either Actor or Casino would have possibly taken the chance, had the skill to get it done, though I don't know they'd have been willing to risk getting shot, considering no one seemed to really be forming any attachments to each other. They might have just used the opportunity to crawl to the other side and take off. Still, they MIGHT have taken the shot, but Goniff? No, he's stuck there, and will end up panicking and getting wiped out after we're all gone anyway!"}

He'd known the small Englishman was a risk, had been cautioned against bringing him into the team, but his talents outweighed his limitations, or so Garrison had thought at the time, never thinking the fates of the entire team might rest in those nimble but larcenous fingers. Now, well, if he'd had it to do over again!

He was desperately searching the area to the side of him, to the rear, trying to see any way he could move into a better position. That meant leaving Chief alone, even though Garrison currently had a hand clamped tightly around his heavily bleeding arm. Still, if he didn't do something . . . 

He was still thinking when the unthinkable happened. Up above, a slender figure darted from behind the heavy metal beam, and the submachine gun opened up. The three aiming in that direction got off only two shots before they were taken down; the man above slammed back into the trestle, but continued firing, and then the patrol, well, there WASN'T any patrol any more, no one left standing. The cold, determined look on the small blond man's face was one Garrison knew he'd never seen there before, thought he had to be imagining.

Garrison realized his jaw was still hanging open, when he saw the man above start to slide backwards into the beam, then down, then topple over the side. He motioned for Actor and Casino, finding them already on the move, checking the Germans on the ground, making sure none were still a threat. He called to Actor, had him take over with Chief and, keeping low to the ground, rushed to where the limp flaxen-haired figure sprawled facedown on the rocky ground, submachine gun still clinched in his hand. Casino was right behind him, and they took a moment to exchange an incredulous look, then knelt down to pull the gun away and gently turn the small man over to his back.

Dazed pale blue eyes blinked up at them from the blood-smeared face, "ei, Warden. You guys alright?" and then gulped and looked down at the blood soaking the side of his jacket, and his eyes fluttered shut again, "think I got shot."

"Yeah, I think so too," Garrison replied, his voice a trifle huskier than usual, shaking his head in wonder, pulling the jacket and shirt aside, "but I don't think it's too bad, some bandages, a couple of aspirin maybe. Let's get you out of here." He took another close look at that face, {"no, I had to be imagining it, same mischievious little thief. Must have been the angle of the light and shadows,"} he shrugged to himself.

Goniff suffered them wrapping a hasty bandage around him, the two then hoisting him to his feet and helping him back to where Actor had just finished getting Chief bandaged and ready to move out. The tall Italian looked at Garrison with a wondering shake of his head. "Did you think he had it in him?" he said in a very low voice after they got the two wounded, with Casino to help them, loaded into the jeep left behind by the patrol, and stepped to get in the front seats.

"Of course, I wouldn't have made him a part of the team otherwise," actually looking Actor in the eye. Actor gave him a reproachful look, and Garrison gave a slightly sheepish grin, "well, anyway, we know now . . ."

***

Actor should have been well pleased; it had gone down just as he'd planned it, back when Garrison had interviewed him in Alcatraz. Yes, work with the Lieutenant and the others, until the chance came; the chance for a big score and a swift route to a neutral country. The world was wide, he was a master of disguise; the parole, which he'd never placed any reliance in anyway, well, with the right funds, the right opportunities, he could bypass that. And it hadn't taken that long; this was only the fourth mission, and the diamonds had fallen right into his hands. Alright, so it had taken Goniff getting the uniforms and keys for them, Chief hotwiring that car, and Casino dealing with the safe, but once the diamonds were safely in his hands, there was no reason to stick around. His disguise was well in place, the staff car just sitting there waiting for him.

They had all split up, heading back to the safehouse; they'd intended to travel together, but that turned out to be too dangerous. From what he'd seen, he doubted Garrison or Casino would make it there quickly; although he hadn't seen them get injured, they had been moving without their usual grace, so he rather thought they had been. The pickpocket had been scampering around, as usual, though falling over something once, probably a piece of lint, Actor thought with amusement; he had had to dodge as the small man almost tumbled into him, just murmuring a fast, "sorry, mate," as Actor steadied him on his feet. For someone as graceful and talented as the Englishman was in climbing and managing heights, he was sometimes woefully clumsy on the ground. Chief he hadn't seen, but knew he was to have been the first to head out, to make sure the safe house still was secure. So, no one would be coming after him, not for some time; they'd be too involved in patching up their wounds, trying to make it to the rendezvous point. Yes, it had gone down just as he had planned. He'd be safely in Switzerland before they knew what had happened.

He got in the staff car and started it, heading out, watching for any sign of German patrols. He sighed with relief when he saw the crossroads. {"Yes, left, Lugano, with Switzerland just across. Half an hour, no more."} 

He pulled up, looking at the small house at the back of the alley. {"Just how did I end up back here? Why?"} he asked himself in frustration and anger. {"I was so close!"} He shook his head, parked the car and made his way to the rear of the house. A shadow approached, "you're late," came the laconic comment from the young Indian, "take the long way around?" and Actor saw the quirk of the mouth that constituted a grin from this most reserved of the group. Somehow he knew Chief knew quite well what had happened.

"Yes, well, the view is magnificent, you know; I rather got lost in my musings."

"I'll bet," came from Garrison, standing in the open doorway. Actor entered, feeling the questioning eyes on him.

"Anyone hurt?" he asked in his role of general binder of wounds. Goniff spoke up from his perch atop the back of a chair, "Warden pulled a muscle in 'is back, Casino jammed 'is ankle, but me and Chiefy, we're alright."

Actor followed Garrison's motion and went to the safecracker, "Hey, ain't a big deal, at least as long as you still have that staff car. Didn't manage to lose that while you were out sightseeing, did ya?"

"Be quiet and let me take a look, and Lieutenant, you too. Don't try to hide in a corner!" knowing Garrisons' propensity for getting banged up and then trying to hide it. 

"So, how far did ya get?" came as a casual question from Casino, with a knowing grin.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," came the haughty response, eliciting a low murmer of amusement from the other cons.

"Yeah, right."

"Alright, hand them over," came the stern order from Garrison.

"Them, Lieutenant?" Actor replied with an innocent look. Chief took note that he did it pretty good, though nowhere near as good as Goniff.

"The diamonds, come on, hand them over," now accompanied by an impatient snap of his fingers and an outstretched palm. Actor sighed, reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pouch. Garrison took it with an exasperated sigh, opened it and poured the contents out into his hand. His face became even more stern, and he frowned at Actor, "alright, enough clowning around. Give them to me, now!"

Now it was Actor who was frowning, and he stepped forward to use one index finger to spread the sparkling mass of cheap rhinestones across the Lieutenant's palm. He remembered that stumble in the alleyway, the near fall; he whirled around, "Goniff!" to get that totally innocent look. Yes, Chief was right, Goniff did it much better!

"What, Actor? Need something?" Then that smirk broke through, his eyebrow arching in that look that they sometimes wanted to just smack him for, and he reached in through the buttons of his shirt. Drawing out a small bundle, wrapped in a handkerchief, "jest keepin em safe, mate, that's all," and tossed them into Garrison's hand.

Actor looked with disgust at the diamonds, spread out in all their glory, looking again at their small Englishman who was sitting there grinning at him. {"Now wouldn't that have been a lovely surprise when I opened that pouch in Geneva??!"} and couldn't help himself as he gave a long rueful laugh, which was joined in by everyone but Garrison, who just stood there shaking his head at this lot.

Later, though, {"he came back; he didn't know Goniff had the diamonds, but he still came back, with the staff car. He came back for us,"} and smiled to realize this team he was trying to bring together, well, it seems it was happening.

***

He knew he was expendable; that had been made clear from the beginning, and he knew he was the most expendable one of the lot. Sure, he was good, well, better than good with a knife; knew cars, but there were others out there with those skills. He'd found out even the Brass had questioned Garrison on choosing him, a half-breed Apache with a murder rap sitting on his record, though he'd never heard they'd got a good explanation from Garrison. He kept waiting, waiting for them to throw him to the wolves.

The little pickpocket, well, he was friendly enough, but Chief knew the pickpocket tried to be friendly with everyone; it was part of how he protected himself. Chief understood that; he knew what it was to have to come up with ways to keep yourself alive, intact. Didn't always work, but still, you found ways to try and even the odds. Being a friendly, helpful, chattering pest might work for the little Englishman; that wasn't his style, though. For himself, keeping to himself, not trusting anyone at his side or at his back; keeping his blades handy, having everyone know he wouldn't tolerate anything personal; that was HIS way, and it worked as good as anything could work for someone like him.

The safecracker, he was bigger, brash, talked big and had proved he could back up the talk with his fists; him and the pickpocket seemed to spend the most time together, but Chief didn't know if that was some sort of a friendship forming or just cause they could annoy each other the most and seemed to get a lot of amusement from it.

Actor, he stayed apart, as much as Chief did, but for different reasons. Actor, he thought he was better than everyone else, and Chief could see that, though he didn't have to like it. Actor, he was smart; even more, he was educated, could read just about anything, in any language those books in the Mansion library could offer up. He knew art, music, books; had been everywhere, according to him, and knew all the beautiful women anywhere, again according to him. Chief envied him, but found him annoying in equal measure.

Garrison, the Warden, well, that had him stumped. He was strict, driving, but he didn't use his fists or the guards at his command to punish them; he pushed them, but let Chief have his blades, at least to practice with and on missions. He was fair, and that was something Chief just wasn't used to. But, no matter what, Chief remembered two things; he was expendable, and it was just a matter of time before they made their choice, them or him, turned on him, left him behind; just a matter of time.

It happened in a little town in Germany; they were supposed to be getting plans from a secret facility. Chief was to take out the guard at the front, make his way in and open the side door for the others to come along after they finished with their own jobs; here was where the documents for the undercover Gestapo agents were kept, the ones threatening Allied operations in this part of Germany. Normally it would have been the pickpocket, also adept at second story work, getting through the doors, but these were special, no outside mechanisims at all, all opened from the inside. Goniff had made his way up the side neighboring building where the files where kept; there was a vent up there that would let the small man through, if he really squeezed tight. Casino was waiting for the pickpocket to open that door to open the safe there with the list of Underground operatives at risk in the imminent roundup by the Gestapo; Actor and Garrison were trying to run a con on the officers over at the main building to get the details of the timing.

Splitting the team, well, Garrison had been real unhappy about that, but there just didn't seem to be a better way. All three pieces of information were needed, and once one target went down, the other buildings would have become an ants nest of guards rushing around. Chief's job was perhaps the simplest, but the most dangerous. The middle building had only one guard per floor, and Goniff and Casino could take those out one by one; well, alright, Chief figured it'd mostly be Casino, Goniff being not so good at the hand to hand stuff. And Garrison and Actor, well, Chief had seen them pull off impersonations he'd have thought impossible, so they should be fine. But as for himself, he was going in cold; the guard hadn't been outside like he was supposed to, so he was left with tapping on that door, taking on whoever was on the other side. It was supposed to be just one, with another on each floor, but you never knew about these things.

It turned out his apprehension was correct. The guard that opened the door had been enjoying a smoke break with the others from above, and they'd been not amused, or maybe they had, at the intrusion. They'd taken turns batting him around, but when he drew his knife, they got serious, and he took some heavy blows before they tied him up and shoved him into a small side room to wait for their commanding officer to come and take their report. Seems they'd been told not to interrupt his 'visiting' with his guest, a pretty fraulein from the village, not for any reason. Chief waited, aching, knowing they'd be back, knowing he had no way out. His hands were bound tight behind him, so tight his fingers were already numb.

He tried to keep track of the time, thinking {"they should be finished next door,"} then a bit later, {"Warden must be done, they'll be on their way out to the rendezvous, then to the pickup point,"} not knowing why he was trying to keep track of that, just, he kept listening, wondering if he would even hear gunfire from in here. He turned his mind inward, knowing he'd probably never know if they made it out or not. Part of him really hoped they had, even as he scoffed at himself for caring. {"Ain't gonna make no difference for me,"} knowing once again, he was expendable, that they'd leave him behind.

The signal came from the front door, the knock that caused the guards to hurriedly put out their cigarettes and straighten their uniforms. A commotion, officers they hadn't been expecting, a loud lecture on security and decorum, and a nice bit of misdirection left the way for a shadow to make its way into the building and over to the side door, opening it carefully to let another shadow enter. The officers left, threatening them if they stepped one foot away from that entrance! They swallowed deeply, and positioned themselves just as they'd been told. Two more shadows slipped in through that unlatched side door.

"Got it!" came as a whisper.

Garrison murmured, "any idea . . ."

"Got 'im in that little room off the 'allway, looks like," and at a signal they moved out.

Chief felt more than saw the door ease open, his eyes starting to swell shut from the beating he'd gotten. He felt the movement, braced himself for the next round, and froze as he heard that breath of a voice, "easy now, mate; get these off you in just a tick!" and fingers working at the knots binding him. "Hey, Indian, how bad you hurt?" came from Casino, his voice equally as low, and his amazement grew. {"They came for me, Goniff and Casino?"} He couldn't wrap his mind around it.

Then, "come on, get him up and let's out of here before those guards decide to go asking someone about those orders we gave them," in a harsh whisper from Garrison. They had him up and half carried him to the door, where he saw the team was complete, Actor standing guard with a submachine guard, giving him an appraising look, and a nod of acknowledgement. Out the side door, which was eased closed behind them, to latch tightly once more, then to the waiting staff car. He was eased onto the floor in the back, Actor and Goniff in the seats above, Garrison and Casino in the front. He looked at them, as best he could see in the darkness, each of them alert, focused, ready for trouble.

"Eh, Chiefy, don't you worry; 'ave you all right and tight afore you know it," accompanied by a comforting pat to his shoulder.

He swallowed hard, "did we get it all? Everything we needed?" to get a firm, "absolutely everything we came for," from Garrison. "Good work, men. We saved a lot of lives tonight," the praise sincere, heartfelt. Actor was trying to check Chief for damages, and Casino leaned back over the seat, "hey, Indian. I got your blades; they left them outside the door. Get um back to ya when we get settled."

He didn't know what he said in reply, to any of them, his thoughts just kept repeating, {"they came back for me; they didn't have to, but they came back!"} and he felt something settle around him, stronger than the ropes that had held him, stronger, warmer. Bindings he didn't even have a name for. {"They came back for me."} 

***  
Casino had it made. Well, he would have, if any of this had been real. Wheel man for the Big Guy, Augie Mancinelli. So, Mancinelli wasn't the biggest of the Big Guys, but he wasn't anywhere near the bottom of the stack either. Garrison had somehow managed to get the safecracker in the right place, the right time, and now, he was sitting in clover. Positioned in the up and coming Mancinelli organization in London; good pay, good booze, lots of broads thinking he was just what they wanted for a hot night in the sack, guys around like he used to run with, guys he understood; yeah, he had it made, alright.

The thought had come, {"so maybe I don't go back. Or, maybe I go back, say I couldn't find anything, slip away and come back here into this cozy little spot. No more heading off across the Channel, no more getting shot at, well, at least not by the Krauts. Yeah, I could go for this."}. The thought had crossed his mind that he could move up even farther, faster, maybe, if he ratted on Garrison and the others. He'd known lotsa guys who made their way up a helluva lotta rungs on the Mob's ladder that way.

Chief was back with Garrison, til they could find the right opening for him. But he knew Goniff was working a different part of the con, on the numbers side outta some tobacco shop over on 42nd Street, and Actor, he was already close to the Big Guy. One word from him, the little Limey and the conman were toast, and Casino's position was gold. Gold. 

He'd rather lost his train of thought during that poker game; he'd looked up to see the unfamiliar, or at least newly familiar faces around him, and for a moment felt the shock, felt the loss. He hoped his face hadn't shown what he'd felt, cause that could prove fatal. Anyways, it hadn't meant nothin; wasn't like he MISSED them, specially that annoying little Limey, always fidgeting, diddling around with the cards, snitching his matches or his lighter or something, never shuttin the hell up. He sure as hell didn't miss the Indian, his sullen face, always playing with that knife of his, the way he was always at that window, staring out, like he was thinking about just sprouting wings and flying away. And the conman, yeah, right, he was really gonna miss that snooty high-brow, thinking he was just the cat's pajamas, lording it over everyone, him and his fancy education, fancy neckcloths, 'ascots', he called them, him with his talk about all the places he'd been, the beautiful women he'd shacked up with. Well, maybe Casino didn't have a fancy education, and he wasn't much for fancy clothes, but women, yeah, there he felt he could hold his own! And the Warden, well, he was supposed to be the bright boy, so smart; he was the one dumb enough to put this in motion, give Casino the chance to make it out and away and land in a real sweet place. How smart did that make him, huh??

{"Yeah, that's what I've been needin. Hot, great body, all that blonde hair! Damn!"} Casino stretched, thinking about the night before, grinning with satisfaction. He'd also gotten the information he'd been sent in to get, and that was satisfying in its own way, he supposed, though not a lotta use unless he was going back to Garrison, but that broad? Damn!!

He frowned just a bit remembering the talk he'd overheard. Seems they were a little suspicious of that new guy working numbers over on 42nd Street, thinking maybe they should see him out of the picture, even though they didn't have any proof anything was wrong. Still, they'd said cheerfully, better safe than sorry! Something was planned for tonight. They hadn't described the new guy, and Casino couldn't be sure they were even talking about the little Limey. Anyway, this deal he'd fallen into, he didn't intend to throw it away; it was just too sweet! Didn't see anyone nursemaiding HIM, didya? 

He was driving the Big Guy around town, making the usual stops, the conman joining them around noon as planned. Casino found a frown on his face, his hand tapping nervously on the steering wheel. {"Damn, just get a grip! Remember, the broads, the money. Just get a grip! You don't even know . . ."}

At the next light, he glanced in the rear view mirror; Mancinelli was looking out the window. Casino caught Actor's eye, trying to tell him, what, tell him what? {"Shit, what am I doin? Gonna blow the whole deal, end up back getting shot by the Krauts or sent back to the slam when the Brass pulls the rug. Think, Casino, damn it, remember what's important!"}

Actor was on the alert now, paying attention to Mancinelli, of course, but also watching Casino carefully out of the corner of his eye. Casino snickered loudly, and Actor asked, in a bored, slightly reproving tone of voice, "is there something in particular amusing you, James?"

"Sorry, Mr. Landino, just thinkin about that little blonde from last night. Asked her she wants to go see 'Julius Caesar' with me tonight, ya know, the Ides an all; dumb Limey asked was an 'ide' was, after she told me she didn't know any one named Julius, though she'd met someone named Caesar once, afore he got axed. Well, with that pretty little body, she got the goods, guess she don't havta have smarts too."

He glanced back to see the dawning in Actor's eyes, and the small refined smile, "I'm sure that is true for you, James. I am sure she is just your type." Casino was kicking himself by now, but it was too late. He could see his cushy spot just disappearing, and him ending up in cement shorts. Hell, he didn't even like that little Limey!

"I'm quite sure, Craig; or, at least I think I am. It was a bit obscure, and the references not what I would have expected from Casino, but I believe he was telling me they're onto Goniff, that we need to pull him out, now, before tonight if we want to keep him alive. Oh, and I believe he also has the information you sent him in to get."

Garrison was slightly skeptical, but went along; he didn't want to lose a man just because he didn't understand the communication between Casino and Actor. Goniff got the signal and was waiting for them in the alley behind the tobacco shop.

"W'at's up, thought we weren't supposed to be meetin til tomorrow?"

"Get in, you're out of here. Casino tipped Actor, they're on to you. You have a one way ticket to the river, probably tonight," and Goniff's eyes got big as he hustled into the car.

"'Ow'd 'e get the word out? Couldn'ta been easy; they've both gotta 'ave eyes on them."

"Actor was rather vague about it, but he seemed sure. Rather pull the plug on the job than have them pull the plug on you," Garrison told the sometimes annoying, frequently amusing, (disturbingly endearing) little man sitting next to him with a wry grin. Chief was driving, but the glance he gave toward the backseat showed he agreed with that sentiment.

"Casino, 'e gonna be okay? If 'e's right, an they find out 'e tipped the wink, it aint gonna be pretty," he asked, worry evident in his raspy voice and in the frown on his face. Garrison exchanged a look with Chief, "Yeah, we know."

Mancinelli was seriously annoyed. There had been suspicions about the new numbers guy, and it had been decided to not take any chances, just get rid of him; but when the pair assigned to take care of that went to his place last night, he wasn't there. Hadn't been since early morning; the tobacco shop he hung out in, well, they said he'd left early afternoon, never came back. Mancinelli didn't like it, and there was something jiggling around in his mind, something he could almost remember, something he'd heard or seen that would give him a hint. If he could just remember. . .

Casino played a good bluff, he always had. He drove the car, he listened when he could, he played the part. When Landino had pulled the gun and stuck it in Mancinelli's ribs, he calmly drew his pistol and nodded meaningfully to the guy riding shotgun, who had just noticed what was going on in the backseat, letting him know he was on top of it. Well, he was; just not the way the guy had thought. A quick move and shotgun guy was laid out across the seat.

"I hope to hell you know what you're doing!" he exclaimed, and saw the fury crossing the mob boss's face as the reality struck him.

"I believe so," as Actor calmly, "drive on, corner of Lancaster and Dwyer." Garrison was waiting, along with a military contingent, and Mancinelli, not just a mob boss but also Nazi collaborator was taken away, making threats, demanding his rights, all the usual.

"He okay?" Casino asked.

Garrison exchanged a quick sly look with Actor, "He?"

"The little Limey. You got him out before they could get to him, right?" Casino's voice was getting louder, more urgent.

"Goniff? Our meeting wasn't set til later today. What are you . . .?" bewilderment in his voice, trying to let the pause say "haven't a clue what you are talking about! Was there a problem with Goniff?", watching those eyes, to see what he'd hoped to see, actual caring, actual worry, dismay that they hadn't understood, hadn't got the slender Englishman out of harms way.

"Yeah, Casino, I'm okay," came in a raspy voice from behind him, breaking the tension, and Casino whirled to see Goniff grinning at him.

"Dumb Limey! Don't sneak up on a guy like that! Don't know what the Warden's doin anyway, letting you out by yourself. Made ya right off the bat, looks like! Gonna get yourself killed one a these days!" and everyone, the rest of the team, grinned at Casino blustering, bullying, showing everyone just how much he DID NOT care if that happened.

Garrison eased back a bit, looking at his team. {"Finally, they made it. They're a team."} 

The intercom had proven entertaining; listening to the Brass scold Garrison for putting the cons in those positions, where they could have betrayed the Allies, taken up their places in the mob. Especially Casino, they insisted. How could he have taken such a foolish risk? Didn't he know just who, what he was dealing with? Trusting him, dropping him right in the middle of guys just like him!

Casino was trying not to think about just how tempted he'd been; he'd never tell anyone that, he decided. He didn't want the guys to know. Now, the ones downstairs, hell, he didn't care what those morons thought of him, but the others, well, seems he did care, to his disgusted amusement at himself.

"Yeah, Casino, great job, good money, plenty a skirts, surprised you didn't just chuck all this an make a go for it!" came slyly from the blond Englishman, who knew just what the safecracker had risked to keep him safe, and it wasn't a job or money or women, it was his life.

Casino looked around the room, Goniff cheating at solitaire once again, Actor sitting with his pipe and his book, Chief perched on that window sill. They each gave him a look, their own individual smile or grin; each of them knew he'd been tempted, but he'd done the job, kept the lid on, came back to them.

"Yeah, well, someone shoulda mentioned all that before; hell of a time to be telling me now, after it's all over!" he groused. And the laughter, it was the kind of laughter shared by brothers, comrades, and it was good.

***  
He blew it. It wasn't intentional; hell, his life was on the line, all of their lives were on the line; it wasn't like he went in with the idea of NOT coming out again! Still, from the minute he gave his little performance and saw the look in the man's eyes, he knew that somehow, he didn't know how, he'd just stepped in it all the way up to his shiny belt buckle. Actor was across the room, watching while chatting up a fine lady in jewels and an elegant gown; well, it was Actor; of course he was.

Garrison knew he had probably seconds before it all hit the fan; he flicked the hand signal to the con man, the one he'd hoped never to have to use. The 'it's all gone bad; get the team the hell out of here!' signal. Actor was here, Goniff serving drinks, but with his back to Garrison; Actor would be able to signal him, though. Casino was upstairs spinning the dial on that pretty safe they had hidden behind the fake Monet; Chief waiting with the car.

The sweat was popping out on his body now, but he kept the smile on his face, as if nothing was wrong, as if his life hadn't just reached its finale. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Goniff leave the room through the servants door; {"okay, he's going to warn Casino to get out of there and to the car,"} watching til he saw the door swing in, just a bit, and then Actor was gone too, bowing his way out with his apologies to the lady.

{"Five minutes, just five more minutes and they'll be out the gate and gone. Come on, Garrison, stall; give them those five minutes!"} He continued his prattle, made it to the five minute mark, then the ten, before he felt the gun in his ribs from the tall gentleman standing behind him.

"Very good, Hans. Take him to the car. We'll have more freedom to question him at Gestapo Headquarters," the dapper man with the pencil thin moustache said, smiling at how he'd been able to drag out the conversation, give Hans time to confirm what he'd thought from the beginning, that this man was an imposter. {"Stupid man, he didn't even realize I was on to his game!"}

Garrison went with them, watching for an opportunity, any opportunity to make a break, but they were careful not to give him one. The two men from the party, the driver, one guard; he thought about trying it anyway; he might end up dead quicker, though he wasn't sure that was any better or worse than what was waiting for him. He was pretty sure he was going to end up that way shortly, the only question was how, whether he could hold out, not give them any information about the mission, about the team. {"They should be close to the rendezvous point by now. Time, buy them time, Garrison,"} and he settled back in the seat, to wait, for time to pass, for a better opportunity, maybe just to wait for the pain to start, for death to come.

The checkpoint was just ahead, and the soldier stood in front of the barricade, rifle in the correct guard position. Another came to the driver's window, and the driver lowered the glass. Papers were demanded, indignant explanations were made. Though he couldn't hear clearly, not with the glass up between the front and rear seats, he listened and noted them, {"yeah, same ones we use to con ourselves through the stations,"} didn't know why he was bothering to pay attention, except that it was habit, seeing if there was anything new he could add to the repertoire.

The guard was standing fast, and with a huge sigh the driver lowered the window enough to collect the papers from the other men, and handed them to guard. Or he started to; something about the driver's attitude seemed to have annoyed the guard. He demanded the driver get out of the car, was insistant on it. The other men in the car were furious, making themselves heard loud and clear. So loud, in fact, they didn't hear the slight rustlings as bodies moved in the shadows of the car, grabbed and pulled open the car doors. The men were yanked out and went down in a flurry of fists and knives, a stunned Garrison was helped out and Casino made quick work of the handcuffs he was wearing.

"Sorry it took so long, Craig; there was no really good spot to do this any earlier without greater risk to you," Actor said with a smile. Garrison looked around, and with a hoarse voice, "you should have been at the rendezvous point by now, out and gone! What the hell were you thinking?"

"Thinking the trip home would be kinda boring without you a yammering at us about one thing or another, Warden," Casino said in a lazy drawl.

"'Ei, Casino. The Warden don't yammer at us; he gives us good fatherly advice, ain't that right, Warden," came the cheeky reproof from the little pickpocket a few years Garrison's senior, complete with a comforting pat on the shoulder.

"No one gets left behind, Warden; ain't that what you always tell us?" the impassive voice matched the face, except for that slight smiling undercurrent.

Garrison shook his head in disbelief. "I know there wasn't much time, but, any luck on that safe?"

"Luck aint got nothin to do with it, Warden; it's skill, baby, skill," flashing the map they'd come to retrieve. They all laughed, moved the car off the road, and disappeared into the night.

In the galley of the submarine, he looked around the table at the men, bickering, loud, discordant, he shook his head again, {"maybe this IS what a team looks and sounds like! We made it; they're a team; WE'RE a team,"} and he smiled into his coffee cup. The men sneaked a look at him and each other, exchanging smiles and grins of their own. Yeah, they'd made it. All of them.

**Author's Note:**

> This is perhaps the logical place to start with the saga, though there will be backfills, and vignettes covering a span of time. Warning:the vignettes can and usually do include Spoilers. While the stories begin mostly canon, they hardly remain that way. And, as people tend to do, the characters (as I see them anyway) develop in perhaps some surprising ways. Certainly their meeting and forming an alliance with members of Clan O'Donnell, a rather ancient, extremely unusual, more than a little uncivilized family helped in that development. Oh, and there's the occasional dropping in of a mythological creature or being every now and again. Not to mention the Crossovers with Hogan's Heroes, The Persuaders, and Man/Girl from Uncle. Yes, the guys get around! Read if you like, enjoy if you can, but please don't be too upset if the characters differ from your interpretation. They didn't really ask me for my opinion, you know, just gave me the privilege of relating events.


End file.
